Don't Drink the Water

I was asked by Donson the other day if they have sports drinks here in Vietnam, like Gatorade, or Powerade.

'No, I don't think so. I haven't seen any', I said.

'I wonder if you can get them into it?' he asked me.

  

Here is a typically cryptic statement by Donson. About half the things he says, I like to think of it as a masterstroke of Dadaist ambiguity. Or as he would self-describe it, 'I'm just bad at explaining things.' With about 20 minutes of prodding, usually I get down to the bottom of it, and typical of a poet, his off-kilter statements always mean a whole lot under the surface, full of unconventional wisdom and genuine insight.

Our little conversation was through online chatting, and since we are twelve time zones away from each other and the time in which I can talk to everybody back home is through a very small window, I didn't exactly feel like questioning what he meant by it, so I just let it slip by and continued our timely conversation about the earthquake and Nostradamus and stuff. 

I kept thinking about that question, about Gatorade. About how Gatorade, or Powerade, could possibly fit into the picture with my time here in Sapa, a small town known for the congregation of many ethnic minorities like the Hmong and Red Dzao, who have been making their living as experts in rice farming for centuries. Their villages outside of Sapa, in which they still reside, aside from the occasional television or ubiquitous cellular phone, wouldn't look too different than it probably did a few centuries ago. My students still cook rice in a large cast iron pot and a wood fire at the school, their clothing is lavishly adorned with their own stitchwork, and long treks and descents down mountains are done in plastic jelly slippers that wouldn't pass quality control at Family Dollar.

Regardless, the jagged terrain of Northern Vietnam is their dancefloor, and the ease in which they traverse it is made all the more mesmerizing due to their nonchalance while doing so. Their walking and climbing prowess reminds me of Tom Hulce's portrayal of Mozart in Amadeus, a man so thoroughly talented at what he does that he is incapable of even comprehending his superiority. Instead, all he could do is let out little giggles of disbelief as he casually improvises an eternal masterpiece. My students' giggling comes in the form of watching my fellow teachers and me try to follow them down a mountain with their sweat-less ease. They're not boasting, they just don't understand how we could be so uncoordinated at walking on our own two legs. 

Okay, this isn't very informative but I tried to snap a video without
Mai's knowledge and clicked record too late.

So does the Gatorade question allude to the fact that I need to teach these kids some athleticism, to inform them on how to take care of their bodies through competitive sport? There is no other sport here but soccer, and there is nothing that I can teach them concerning that weird game where you pretend you have no arms. Soccer obsession is of course, like everywhere else, very real here: one of my students, since my first day, has insisted on going by the name Fabregas (he of Arsenal fame, for us Americans).

One day recently, my coworker Sharon brought up an interesting revelation immediately following class.

“Every time I go to the bathroom at the school, I never have to wait. Not once have I seen it occupied.”  Thinking a bit, I realize I’d never run into that problem either. We’ve got on average of about 25 kids in the class, one bathroom in use, and yet there’s never once been a conflict with me or the other teachers.

“I just don’t think they ever have to pee,” Sharon continued.

As a general rule, we all have lunch and dinner with the students, meals cooked by the students and served on a long table with the teachers interspersed amongst our pupils. I think it’s very old fashioned and a great idea, creating quicker bonds and is a way for the students to repay their teachers with their cooking. Plus the food is pretty good, too. We all get our bowl of rice in front of us, chopsticks, and generally some morning glory with garlic, tofu with crushed tomatoes, pumpkin stew, and chicken ‘bacon’. The rice is plentiful, and we often help ourselves to multiple bowls. The only thing we don’t have is water, or a glass to drink out of at the table. Not just water, but no tea or any other kind of beverage. This actually suits me fine, since I don’t drink much water while I eat, yet the girls are so accommodating with all of the teachers’ needs, I do find it surprising that none of it is even offered.

I do know there’s probably some pretty logical reasons why the Hmong, throughout their history, have not drunk much water, but I’m not just talking about at the dinner table. When I go on treks with my students, we’re not talking about an hour stroll on flat roads. The ascents are easily about 50+ degrees incline for long stretches of time, and we’ll go a total of about 6 hours in a day, so to not have a sip of water during the entire trek is remarkable. And it’s not because we don’t offer it to the students; of course we’re carrying those giant grain-silo sized bottles, and they’ve never once taken us up on our offer of water. On top of that, our students often even feel the need to carry one of our backpacks, where it can easily, from what I can estimate, weigh about a third of their body weight. Even then, not even a sip.

So what is all this about having 8-12 glasses a day. I’ve heard it’s essential, and I’ve also read it’s hogwash. I think I’m going to have to lean towards hogwash now. Personally, I’m still going to do my part in fulfilling that water quota that’s been pounded into head, but human physiology can’t be all that different from people to people. Maybe we’re being had by some Coke and Pepsi instigated bottled water fallacy. But my students, who are physically small in stature but tough as titanium nails in just about every facet of their life, are doing it with what literally might be zero drinking water. Maybe they don’t like water. Maybe they need Gatorade. Maybe I’m wasting my time with English; I cannot think of a better way to wave my American flag than to fight for the Western-physician recommended nutritional plan of double digit glasses of water a day. I honestly wish I was cool enough to nix water for life.

Is that what you meant, Donson? How did you know about this fascinating little tidbit about my students? Yes! I do want to get them into Gatorade. I want to continue my imperialistic American duty by indoctrinating my students with the importance of having a Sigg and to get them hooked on Voss water.

In the realm of sports, I’ve competed against the girls in only one: foosball. They’re good enough at that to where I have about an 0-25 record against them.